


Nobler in the Mind

by TheWindAndRain



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy, Voyná i mir | War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Inspired by Stranger Things (TV 2016), Physical Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-07-09 14:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19889116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWindAndRain/pseuds/TheWindAndRain
Summary: Whatever Fedya Dolokhov had expected from his new job with the Russian government, it certainly wasn't what he got.Inspired by Stranger Things.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Of Dust & Dæmons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13751901) by [MaplePaizley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaplePaizley/pseuds/MaplePaizley), [thewhiskerydragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewhiskerydragon/pseuds/thewhiskerydragon). 



> Hello everyone! I'll keep this brief because you probably aren't here to read an Author's Note but I do want to credit some people before we start! 
> 
> First, I need to thank AO3 users yelenavasilyevna and lacedramblings for being my literal best friends and for editing this into a version that was decent enough to be posted (because the first draft was definitely far from that without their help). They are the most amazing people and I'm so grateful to have them in my life!
> 
> Next, I also need to thank AO3 users MaplePaizley and thewhiskerydragon for being the literal icons of the Great Comet AO3 tag. Seriously, you guys are absolute gods when it comes to writing. I've been absolutely obsessed with Of Dust and Daemons for a while now and it motivated me to start writing this, which is why I tagged it as an inspiration. You two are amazing! Thank you for constantly creating such great content.
> 
> Hopefully I haven't gone on for too long by now-- enjoy the chapter everyone!

Fedya Dolokhov had no idea what he was getting himself into. He had just finished his second tour with the Russian military, which meant he was officially unemployed until they called him back into service. When a job offer did finally come his way after a few weeks of piled-up bills and the frustration that came along with those bills, it was the last one he was expecting. 

It was presented to him in the form of a hand-delivered envelope at his door, and the hand delivering it told him nothing more than the fact that it was a government position. He’d have to be stupid to turn something like that down. Still, he should have known something was off about the job the second he read the vague wording of the official description, which said:

**SECURITY GUARD**

**001**

**002**

It was either taking this job or continuing to scrape money together from doing odd tasks for the neighbors until his regiment got called to action, but the money he got from things like that only lasted so long. And cheating at cards was bound to get him in trouble one of these times, even if he had been able to avoid the consequences in the past. 

He accepted the position on the spot, which the delivery man didn’t look very  surprised about. He was told that someone would stop by later to pick him up, and just like that, he was left alone to wonder what his new job might entail. It could involve outside clients, but that implied a business that catered to said clients (something that was not Fedya’s strong suit). If they had chosen him specifically, his personable nature definitely wasn’t the defining characteristic they were searching for. 

Sure enough, there was another knock at the door around noon. The man behind it handed him a large box, telling him to change into his uniform and meet in the black car outside of the main entrance when he was done. Fedya did as he was told (an action he was generally opposed to), putting the expensive-looking suit on and then making his way downstairs. 

From the second he got into the car, it seemed as though the man driving didn’t want him to be able to track the direction they were headed in. He thought that was fairly reasonable given the fact that it involved the government and a high level of secrecy, although he did still end up with a headache from all of the sharp turns and circles. 

However strange Fedya found the driving pattern to be, the odd nature of the situation only escalated after the car reached its destination (not that he knew what, exactly, that destination was). He followed the driver into the large building in front of them and watched as the man checked them in through five different security checkpoints.

Five levels seemed excessive in Fedya’s opinion, but then again, he knew next to nothing about the project he’d be working on or the things this building contained. After pausing to allow the security guard to take an identification picture of him at the last checkpoint, he was brought down several hallways and then told to halt in front of a door.

The man who eventually opened the door was everything Fedya imagined him to be, right down to the wristwatch that looked expensive enough to pay Fedya’s rent for the next few years. It seemed that the officials lived like kings, while the rest of the country lived like… well, like Fedya’s own family did. 

“Thank you, Makarin.” The well-dressed man nodded to the driver, who returned the gesture and walked off down the hallway. Fedya knew a military man when he saw one. He had all too often found himself on the receiving end of such a dismissal, and was glad to see that this facility ran in such a similar fashion to what he was familiar with. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Dolokhov. Come in, we have much to discuss.” The words were spoken in a manner that was just as cold and formal as the man’s expression, which didn’t come as a shock to Fedya. He had grown up hearing stories of men like the one in front of him, who looked like he held true to every single one of the stereotypes. 

“Thanks.” Fedya responded, never one for making extensive conversation. Perhaps that was what had landed him the job. He stepped through the now-open doorway and was met with a pristine office that was hardly different from any other basic desk space. Larger and more expensive-looking than most, but nothing that advertised belonging to an official in some sort of top-secret project. 

“My name is Doctor Vasily Kuragin. I’m sure you have many questions, and I will attempt to answer them all during this meeting. Please, take a seat.” The man—Kuragin—explained, gesturing to the desk in the center of the room. It seemed to Fedya as if someone had programmed Kuragin to be the human equivalent of an informational brochure. 

“I do apologize about the lack of information given to you prior to this visit, Mr. Dolokhov. This is the most elite government project to happen in centuries, and we cannot have word spreading about it. Your name and resumé were given to us on your behalf by your military superiors, primarily based on your… impartiality in military matters.” Kuragin explained, clearly being selective with his word choice.

“My cruelty in military matters.” Fedya corrected, his eyes meeting those of the man across the table. “I was known for my ability to extract information from prisoners. If my ‘impartiality’ is what you chose me for, it means you want me to guard hostages.” He might not have been able to afford to go to one of the high-end academies he saw most of his grade school peers go to, but Fedya was by no means stupid. 

“Very straightforward, Mr. Dolokhov. I appreciate that in my employees.” Kuragin responded, motioning to what Fedya had assumed to be a blank wall. The scientist turned to his computer, clicking once with his mouse on a program Fedya couldn’t quite catch the name of. 

At Kuragin’s direction, the empty wall drew back to reveal a glass panel, which further displayed a set of rooms separated by a thick partition in between. The lights flickered on in each room, illuminating two chambers that were eerily reminiscent of the solitary confinement cells Fedya had spent too much time in during the many interrogations he’d conducted. 

The chambers were completely barren of furniture, save for a bed, each with a door at the far end. The only source of light was the one beam in the center from the button Kuragin had clicked, and even with that addition, the rooms were still incredibly dim. It was almost too hard to make out any concrete details past the ones he had already noticed.

But almost didn’t mean impossible. When Fedya squinted, he was able to see the outline of a sleeping figure in each bed. It appeared as though they had a thin sheet wrapped around themselves, but nothing more. They weren’t particularly large figures, probably either teenagers or young adults at most. 

“Resting period is over. Proceed to the center of the room to await further instructions. Again, resting period is over.” Kuragin gave these instructions through a microphone wired into the cells, which sparked an immediate reaction in the left chamber. 

Fedya watched as a young man stood up from the bed, turning to face the glass wall with an empty look in his eyes. It was a look that Fedya had seen many times before, both in the prisoners of war he dealt with and in the men he fought alongside. 

“This is Experiment 001, my pride and joy.” With the monotone Kuragin spoke in, it was impossible for Fedya to tell whether that was a sincere compliment or not. “You can approach the glass if you’d like. We can see them, but they can’t see us. The microphone gives them instructions remotely, to minimize any interaction.” His words sounded more like a command than a suggestion, compelling Fedya to stand and move towards the glass wall at the opposite end of the room.

As he got closer to the man, this so-called ‘Experiment 001’, Fedya realized that he had been wrong; the facial features weren’t proportioned correctly to be male, the shape of the body too distinctly feminine. He was staring into the haunting, empty eyes of a woman. A woman with a buzz-cut and rather toned arm muscles, but a woman all the same. 

Fedya was too focused on the girl to notice Kuragin’s hand moving the computer mouse again, too preoccupied to consider the implications of that movement before a yelp broke him out of his trance. His eyes snapped to the source of the noise, which had come from the figure in the other chamber.

Behind the glass, the person tumbled out of the bed and landed on the floor below. He immediately scrambled to get up, continuing to make small noises of discomfort as he did so. He moved to touch his neck, but recoiled in pain only a moment later. His lip curled up with every breath he took, as if that simple task was hurting him even worse. Suddenly, Fedya was wondering if it was too late to ask about a job chauffeuring for rich people.

“Experiment 002, insubordination is not tolerated. Think of that as a warning for next time.” Kuragin’s voice rang out through the room, causing the second figure to nearly jump out of his skin. Fedya wandered over in the direction of his room, carefully documenting every new detail he noticed. 

Up close, he realized that this person was a slightly more masculine, but almost identical, version of the woman. When Fedya’s eyes flickered back to the woman, the small crease of worry between her eyebrows did not go unnoticed. 

It was only once the boy stepped into the light beam that Fedya was able to see the extent of his injuries. A bruise the size and shape of a large hand wrapped around his pale throat. There was an angry gash on his forehead that cut from his hairline all the way down to the corner of his left eye, which was spotted with the telltale red of burst blood vessels. It was no mystery how that had happened. 

“You want me to guard them.” It was a statement as opposed to a question, a verbal confirmation of Fedya’s thoughts. It was easier for him to change the topic instead of staring directly at this broken creature. He tore his eyes away from the experiment and crossed the room again, suddenly focused on sitting down and absorbing the reality of his situation.

“There’s a bit of a tragic backstory here, along with some assumed risk for you. They’ve had the same guard since the overall experiment began, but One suffered a lapse in judgement two days ago when her brother caused trouble with our research team. We’ve disposed of the guard’s body and upgraded the microchip implant in each of them to help prevent this from happening again in the future.” Kuragin had turned the microphone off before he began his explanation, his voice no longer carrying an echo.

“I can handle them.” Fedya was never one to turn down a challenge, a fight, or money, and this job had the potential to deliver all three. He had stared death in the face before and had never come out on the losing side, and had no plans to change that track record. Most jobs these days came with some rather unpleasant aspects. He would deal with it if it meant his own family would be provided for. 

“A pleasure to have you on board, Mr. Dolokhov. I look forward to working alongside you.” Kuragin extended his hand, his mouth still set in the grim line that he had been wearing since Fedya stepped into the office. Fedya took his hand in response, meeting the older man’s eyes. Behind them, the lights in the cells flickered on and off before plunging the experiments into darkness once again. 


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of introductions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone still reading this? Doubtful after my (multi-month) hiatus. If anyone is out there and I am not, in fact, writing into the void, then hello! Thank you for not only clicking on this in the first place, but making it through the Prologue and into Chapter One! 
> 
> I've actually had this chapter written and stored on my computer for a long time, but I moved in to college and this project went so far on the back burner that I didn't even remember it until very, very recently. By that, I mean today. I am very sorry about the wait! I hope the chapter somehow makes up for it!
> 
> Without further ado, it's time to meet some characters! Let me know if you do end up not hating this story-- comments and kudos and love in general fuels me, as it does with all writers (it seems to be a craft that involves a constant crave for validation)

The next morning, Makarin whisked Fedya down the hallway and into what appeared to be a hospital room. Before the guard even had the chance to question who he had been left with, his driver was long gone.

On the bed in the center of the room was the boy from yesterday, Experiment 002, and next to him was a large man in a white lab coat. The experiment looked up as Fedya entered the room, his eyes large and untrusting. 

The doctor noticed the change in the experiment’s position, turning his head to look at the source of the disruption. He immediately grew flustered as he saw Fedya in the room, tripping over his own feet to turn around fully.

“Mr. Dolokhov, a pleasure to meet you. My name is Doctor Bezukhov, but you can call me Pierre. This is Experiment Two, but I believe you were already introduced to him yesterday.” From the moment the man opened his mouth, all Fedya wanted to do was punch him right in the face.

It didn’t take much to get Fedya annoyed, granted, but this man seemed to radiate an especially irritating energy that Fedya didn’t have the time or patience to deal with. Instead of resorting to immediate violence, he decided to clench his hand into a fist at his side instead.

From the awkward silence that followed the introduction, it was clear that Pierre was expecting a response. Fedya made it equally clear that he wasn’t going to get one any time soon.

Pierre coughed awkwardly after he realized what was happening, turning back to the medical toolkit in front of him. He unlatched the box and carefully picked up an empty syringe with one hand, grabbing the experiment’s arm with the other.

Fedya saw the blood drain out of the experiment’s face, watched as he began to struggle out of Pierre’s hold to no avail. If anything, it just made the giant tighten his grip.

“Please! Do not hurt! Please!” The experiment's voice was rough and hoarse, his  Russian sounding more like a computer translating program than a person. He had begun to cry, probably when he realized he wasn’t getting away.

“This is routine testing, Two. I don’t have a choice, and neither do you. You need to listen to me, or else we’ll have a repeat of the last incident.” Pierre held the experiment’s pale arm out and stuck the needle into the inside of his elbow, drawing the syringe back to collect a blood sample.

Fedya had been expecting more tears and screaming. Fedya had not been expecting Two’s nose to start spontaneously bleeding. It was probably well past time to throw expectations to the wind, anyways.

“His nose is bleeding.” Fedya pushed himself off of the wall, gesturing to Two. Pierre let out a heavy sigh in response, carefully placing the needle into a separate case and latching that one shut.

“You know better than that by now, Two. You’re lucky it’s me, because any other doctor would have beaten you for that.” Pierre spoke as if interacting with a child, his words chosen carefully and his voice slowed down.

“You beat me.” The experiment held a hand up to his neck, mimicking the pattern of the dark bruise that wrapped all the way around his throat. How had this oafish doctor been responsible for something like that?

“He gets beaten up for having a bloody nose?” Fedya chose to ask that question instead, figuring the first one might not be too well-received in his current audience. Maybe Makarin would give it an answer on the drive home instead.

“He gets beaten up for using his powers without permission. The blood means he’s moving something or trying to contact his sister. The crying would lead me to assume the latter.” Pierre lumbered over to a nearby countertop and grabbed a few tissues, extending them out towards the experiment.

“One? Sister?” Two grabbed the tissues from Pierre, holding them to his nose. He sharpened his gaze on Fedya, suddenly much more alert and composed than he had been before. “You have One?”

“I haven’t seen anyone but you so far. I don’t know where she is.” Fedya shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. The experiment seemed to deflate at his words, reverting back to his earlier, fear-filled state.

“I don’t mean to tell you how to do your job, Fedya, I really don’t, it's just that we aren’t supposed to respond to the experiments when they ask questions out of turn.” Pierre looked more afraid than apologetic, his tone just as meek as the experiment’s.

“It’s Dolokhov. My friends call me Fedya.” That wasn’t entirely true, but Fedya didn’t want Pierre thinking they had any semblance of a friendship. He was here to make money, not to meet people. Besides, the last person he would want to be friends with was this man.

Pierre blustered at the response, clearly not expecting to be so blatantly denounced as a friend. He fumbled around on the counter for a moment instead of responding, eventually finding the small folder he had been looking for.

“They both have daily schedules, which I’ve placed in your folder. Each day starts with some routine medical testing, which is what you just saw. Two’s been looking exceptionally pale lately, so we want to keep up with his blood work.” Pierre explained, holding the folder out towards Fedya.

He grabbed the folder and flipped it open, his eyes scanning the contents of it. The first thing he noticed was a lanyard, which had two square buttons and a key card attached to it. He picked it up, examining the items at a closer distance.

The card itself was a rather simple identification tag, with Fedya’s picture taking up the majority of the space on it. To the right of the photograph, the key contained four lines of text:

**Dolokhov, Fyodor Ivanovich**

**ID 090317**

**001**

**002**

“Maybe he looks pale because you beat him to a pulp. You must have really been angry to leave those kinds of marks.” Fedya looked over at Two as he spoke, not bothering to address Pierre directly.

“That was-- that was a mistake. I didn’t mean to do that.” Pierre tripped over his own words, his face growing redder by the second. “He didn’t leave me any choice.”

“That’s interesting. Kuragin led me to believe that they don’t have any control around here.” Fedya shrugged, watching as Two slowly started to shift away from the pair.

For facing a recent attacker, Two was somewhat brave. Fedya had seen much stronger men crumble to pieces facing someone they feared, and now that the experiment had calmed down, he seemed to be handling it better than they had.

“I know I wasn’t hired to watch you draw blood all day, Bezukhov. Tell me what I need to do here or I’ll be on my way. Looks like he has a busy schedule, anyways.” Fedya held up the folder for a moment, as if to remind Pierre that he had places to be.

That gesture seemed to snap Pierre out of his guilt-induced trance, if the rapid nodding was anything to judge by. He turned to Two once more and took a step back, motioning for Dolokhov to do the same.

“Kuragin wanted me to introduce you to the beginnings of what he can do. His sister is a lot stronger than he is, but we’re working on training him to match her some day.” Pierre explained.

From the demeanor of the sickly-looking boy in front of him, Fedya wasn’t sure he would ever match anyone, much less his supposedly overpowered sister. 

“Two, I need you to focus on me. It’s just a little demonstration for your guard, alright? Like a show. Can you pick this up for me?” Pierre spoke slowly, setting a water bottle down on the table in front of him. 

Two hesitated, his gaze shifting back and forth between the two men. Once he realized he had no other options, he sighed quietly and lifted his hand out in front of him. 

“I hate to break it to you guys, but picking up a bottle doesn’t qualify as a super-”

Speaking too soon had always been one of Fedya’s weaknesses, and it proved to be as crippling as ever when the bottle lifted itself off of the counter and moved to levitate in the center of the room.

When Fedya looked back at the experiment, his blue eyes were focused on the bottle and a streak of red had begun to leak from his nose again. As if that wasn’t enough, the hand held out in front of him was shaking.

“That’s enough, Two. Thank you.” As soon as Pierre spoke, the bottle went crashing to the floor and Two’s hand returned to rest at his side. The boy looked back and forth between the two men, as if he was looking for a reaction.

Fedya had never expected to see a person move anything with their mind alone, yet here he was with the evidence right in front of him. If he had been skeptical about this whole thing before, his doubts had just been cleared away.

“His sister can move things a lot bigger than water bottles, and she doesn’t need to  use her hand anymore. Her nose still bleeds a little bit, but not to the degree that his does. And she can hold her concentration for much longer periods of time, as well. He’s still a work in progress.”

Two seemed to deflate at Pierre’s words, his wrist moving to wipe the blood from his face. Fedya wasn’t exactly known for having soft spots, but even he had to feel bad at the amount of energy Two had put in only to be met with that kind of criticism.

“He picks shit up with his mind. Still pretty impressive to me, hand or no hand.” Fedya shrugged, watching the boy for any sort of a reaction. He did perk up slightly at the word ‘impressive’, although it wasn’t an exceptionally dramatic movement.

“Yes, I suppose so. We’ve recently discovered that he has teleportation abilities, although he’s only been able to tap into it three times before. And he has the mental connection channel with her. Kuragin wants to start pushing him on the teleportation, because he isn’t very useful as is.” Pierre stepped towards Two again, who recoiled at the movement.

“You’re just using him the wrong way. He’s insurance for her to stay in line.” It was basic captive techniques, and Fedya refused to believe that he was only now enlightening the scientists about it.

“Exploiting their connection tends to do more harm than good in most instances. We don’t have a way to monitor what they say to each other, so it can be difficult to control.” 

Fedya couldn’t say he exactly understood that rationale, but he wasn’t about to argue with it. He had places to be and places for the experiment to be, and spending more time with Bezukhov was at the bottom of the list of how he wanted to spend his free time.

“You’ll come to learn more about them soon. The little buttons on your lanyard are temporary emergency immobilizers, labeled for each of the subjects. Use it sparingly, because it will cause them incredible amounts of pain.” Pierre checked his watch and then nodded, motioning towards the door.

“Two has important testing next, so you can’t be late for that. After you drop him off across the hall, go to the last door in this hallway and my colleague will introduce you to One. I’d introduce you myself, but I can’t go near her for the foreseeable future unless I want to end up six feet under.” The doctor reached out towards Fedya’s schedule and tapped on one of the boxes which read ‘Sensory Deprivation’.

“Two doesn’t speak Russian that well, but there are certain words he does know. If he hears those exact words, he goes crazy. I’d advise that you bring him to the room, push him in, and run as fast as you can. Let the disposable guards get him ready for it. It was nice meeting you, Dolokhov.”

“Can’t say the same for you.” Fedya wasn’t actually joking, but he decided to let Pierre take it as a joke. The large man laughed and clapped him on the back, his smile almost as broad as his stance. 

Muttering something along the lines of getting coffee, Pierre gave Fedya a wave and headed over towards the door. Before he could come up with a plan for dealing with the subject, they were completely alone together.

“Alright, Two, listen. My name is Fedya, and I don’t want to have to hurt you. Just do what I say, alright? I’m going to take you to your next activity for today.” Fedya spoke in the same tone that he had heard Pierre use to address the experiment, hoping it would set him at ease. 

“You say friends call Fedya. I am friend?” The boy still looked like a feral animal that would rather bite than trust someone, but it was a step in the right direction. Fedya offered his best attempt at a smile and nodded.

“Right. You’re my friend. Sometimes I might have to do things I don’t want to, but I won’t go out of my way to hurt you. Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

The boy hesitated and then nodded, lowering himself off of the hospital bed and onto the floor. He glanced Fedya up and down one last time before deciding that he was safe enough to approach, at least for now.

Telling the boy that they were friends was a little bit cruel, Fedya had to admit. He didn’t exactly feel good about lying like that, but he also didn’t want the experiment to snap on him. At least for now, while he got his bearings in the new environment, it was easier to lull Two into a false sense of security.

“You see One now. Tell One I love.” It probably came out less like a command than he would have liked, but Two still managed to get his point across. If Fedya could carry the message along, maybe he could be trusted. 

“I will. I promise. Now, you have some lessons to get to if I’m not mistaken. You heard Bezukhov, we don’t want to be late.” 

Fedya lead Two out of the hospital room and across the hallway, knocking on the door. The experiment seemed oblivious to what he was about to face, humming a tune he must have picked up from an employee. Fedya wasn’t stupid enough to believe Two’s calm attitude would last once he realized where he was headed.

And so, Fedya did exactly what he had been advised to do. Once the door opened, he pushed Two through and ran down the hallway towards the room Pierre had told him to go to.

It was only once he heard Two’s shrieking echoing behind him that he realized what he had done. It was easier to justify torturing prisoners of war since they had signed themselves up with the risk of being captured, but Fedya had not yet seen any indication of what these two had done to deserve such a fate.

He elected to forget about it for the time being, made easier by the fact  that Two’s screams seemed to be fading away. Instead, he approached the next testing room and pushed the door open. 

The first thing Fedya noticed when he entered was the doctor. Most people would have focused on the test subject, but there was no way Fedya was going to ignore the man he had come to despise so deeply over the years.

“Drubetskoy. Sure has been a while since I’ve seen your face. We all thought you were dead, or a deserter. Maybe both.” Fedya let out a short laugh, finding the identity of his new coworker to be quite humorous. Boris clearly didn’t share his joy.

“It’s Doctor Drubetskoy, now.” The man set his clipboard down on the table beside the bed with a bit too much force, causing the experiment next to him to startle.

“I didn’t realize they started handing out doctorates like candy. Or were you studying your ass off instead of doing your job that whole time? Would have explained why you were so bad at it.” Boris had gone from a respectable man who’d made a living for himself to one that lied and cheated to gain a good reputation, which had been the cause of significant strife between him and Fedya.

“I decided to get myself out of the military before things went to shit. I was offered this job for my exemplary character.”

“You were offered this job because your mother’s only skill is sucking up to people who are above her. How much did she have to pester Kuragin before he caved and bought you a fake degree?” Fedya crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised as he waited for an answer.

“I was wondering how long it would take for them to send a janitor. The mop is in the  closet to the right.” Instead of responding to Fedya’s question, Boris decided to change the subject altogether. Probably a smart move, given the fact that they both knew the answer to it. 

“Perfect. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the janitor when he gets here. I’m her guard.” Fedya finally acknowledged the experiment, who looked back and forth between the two men with her eyebrow raised.

“I didn’t realize they started handing out security positions like candy.” Boris, clearly thinking himself to be so clever for that retort, allowed the corners of his mouth to turn upwards into a smirk.

Before Fedya had the chance to continue the argument, the woman hopped off of the examination table.

“I hate to interrupt your pissing contest, but I’m not planning on sitting around all day.” The accuracy with which the woman spoke Russian, especially when compared to her brother, was quite startling. Her eyes were still rather hollow, but her words carried some spirit to make up for it.

“So your brother can’t say three words, and you somehow know what a pissing contest  is?” Fedya seemed skeptical, as though he thought the scene playing out in front of him was some kind of elaborate illusion.

“I have a colorful tutor and an extensive grasp of the language. No use having an experiment whose strongest powers depend on her words if she can’t even form a basic sentence. That’s what Papa says, at least.” 

Papa? Fedya hadn’t been expecting that. He had always thought his own father would  take the cake for worst parent alive, but if what she was saying turned out to be true, it was  hardly a competition.

“Dolokhov, I know you probably haven’t caught onto this yet, but we don’t engage in  conversation with the experiments. You can’t be asking follow-up questions to what they say.” Boris sighed heavily, as if attempting to make it clear that Fedya was one of the stupidest men he’d ever spoken with.

If Boris wanted to act like that, Fedya was determined to respond by treating him the same exact way.

“I was under the impression that Kuragin put me in charge of both of the experiments yesterday, which means I decide when I talk to them. Did something change overnight that I wasn’t aware about?”

“Don’t listen to him. He is a joke.” The experiment shook her head, waving her hand vaguely in Boris’s direction. “I would not be so bold with the other doctors, but him? Idiot. They make him check us in the room that takes our abilities away because they don’t trust him with the inhibitor.” 

Ah. So that was what accounted for the dramatic change between the woman he had seen yesterday and the one who was in front of him now. Boris was just as useless here as he had always been when he worked with Fedya.

“It won’t be a joke when I report you for insubordination, Experiment One. Would you like your father to know you called me an idiot?”

That silenced the experiment, her eyes turning to the floor and her tough demeanor dissolving instantly.

“No need to be a jerk about it, Boris, although I know that’s your area of expertise.” Fedya wasn’t exactly sure why he was standing up for the woman, but it seemed like the right side to take in this stand-off. 

Boris scowled, putting the few tools laid out on the table into his kit and clicking it shut. Compared to Pierre’s case, his was significantly smaller, which led Dolokhov to believe that One had been correct. Any idiot could read some numbers off of a thermometer and listen for a heartbeat, but it probably took at least a little bit more than a fake degree to take blood like Pierre had been doing.

“Her vitals are all checked and she’s done here. You can take her to wherever she needs to go next. I would say it’s been a pleasure working with you, but I’d hate to be a liar.” Boris picked the case up, once again seeming rather impressed with his words. 

“I’d hate to waste my breath on saying it in the first place. Let’s go, One.” Fedya nodded to her and made his way back towards the door. He opened it and stepped to the side, allowing her to go out first. 

As soon as they left the room, the quiet demeanor she’d adopted earlier shifted into a more permanent one. She kept her head down and shuffled her feet, as though any move she made out of line would have terrible consequences. 

Fedya closed the door behind them, glancing down at the folder he had forgotten about. The next block of color underneath her name was labeled with the same words as Two’s had been. 

He wouldn’t have attempted to try his luck with the earlier experiment, but this one seemed less emotionally volatile than he was. Maybe she’d give him some answers.

“So, what does sensory deprivation mean, anyway?” He asked, breaking the awkward silence. For a moment, it looked as though her head might snap up before she remembered where she was.

“Two is in there also?” She asked, her voice carrying a sudden strained energy that it definitely hadn’t before. So maybe she was emotionally volatile, just in a different way.

“I dropped him off earlier.” He nodded, leading her towards the door he had run from not very long ago. 

“You should have told me. I would not have spent so much time talking if I knew where  he was.” It almost sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

“Well, we’re here now, right? You’ll still get to see him, it says on my schedule that he doesn’t get out for another two hours.” She seemed to get even more upset at his words, making no movements to run away as he held his key card up to the scanner.

The door slid open and Fedya motioned for her to step in, following behind her as soon as she did so. It shut behind him immediately, leaving the two in a dark room illuminated by only a few spotlights and the blue glow radiating from two tanks in the middle of the room. 

In one of them was the boy he had dropped off earlier, dressed in some sort of extreme scuba diving gear and banging on the glass. The tank was filled with water, and a metal ladder connected to a platform above the glass dipped down beneath the surface.

“We’ll take it from here, Mr. Dolokhov.” The familiar voice snapped Fedya’s gaze away from Two. He turned to face his employer, nudging One to do the same. 

Feyda nodded, noting the delayed reaction in the woman. It took her longer than usual to even recognize that she had been tapped, much less respond to it. When she did eventually turn around, the red stain above her lip was impossible to not notice. 

Kuragin reached out and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her away from the tank. Two banged on the glass harder, and if Fedya didn’t know the nature of this project as a whole, he’d be worried about it shattering.

“Doctor Bolkonsky will get you ready for your turn, Experiment One. And if I see this again, you know the consequences.” He pointed to his own nose, mirroring the spot where she had begun to bleed. 

Without warning, his hand lashed out and delivered a harsh slap across her cheek. 

She clenched her jaw and stifled any noises of pain, instead casting her gaze at the floor once again.

“I’m sorry, Papa.”

The second scientist in the room approached her as though nothing had happened, taking hold of the arm that Kuragin extended towards him. In any other situation, Fedya would have rolled his eyes at the newly-introduced man, but that seemed like an action for another day. 

On the long list of people he’d worked with and hated, the only one above Boris Drubetskoy was Andrei Bolkonsky. Fedya supposed it was just his luck that his job now included both of them.

“I believe you heard Doctor Kuragin. We’ll take it from here.” Andrei gave Fedya a cold smile, his free hand gesturing towards the door. Every instinct within Fedya told him to plant his feet and refuse to go, but even he could recognize that this was not the time or the place to do so.

“Gladly, Bolkonsky. I’ll be back to pick them up in two hours. Wouldn’t want to stay here anyways.” Fedya’s words were terse, his jaw about to snap from being clenched so tightly as he pivoted and walked away.

Once he got out into the hallway again, he looked down at the schedule in his hands. In between the blocks of color for both subjects was a small, handwritten note that read:

“Break in the staff room!

Head to Room 205 for some snacks!

See you there!

-Pierre :)”

Just perfect.

* * *

“How was your day, Andrei?”

The question echoed throughout the room, disrupting the silence that had been maintained for the past several (long) minutes between Natasha and the man sitting across from her.

As if he had never heard the question, Andrei brought a forkful of pasta to his mouth and began chewing.

“Anything fun planned for tomorrow?”

More silence.

“How has your father been lately?”

Nothing.

“Sonya and I joined the friendly neighborhood prostitution ring. You know, the one that’s working with the mafia?”

At this point, she was sure he was intentionally ignoring her.

“Your food’s good, at least. Maybe that’s why I keep you around. Having a boyfriend who can cook isn’t the worst, even if he doesn’t speak.”

“It’s a new recipe.” Andrei stabbed another noodle, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Oh, so that’s what you care about? Your Pinterest recipes and not your girlfriend  trying to make basic conversation?” Even Natasha knew that she wasn’t capable of actually being mad, but she could still very well pretend to be. 

“I had a long day, Natasha, and Mary just got my father to fall asleep. She’ll kill me if I wake him up again by being too loud.” That seemed to be Andrei’s go-to excuse these days.

“This is why I wanted us to go out to dinner, Andrei. Believe me, I love when you cook and I think it’s so romantic, but we should be able to talk during the few hours we actually get to see each other.” 

“You know I can’t talk about my job, not even with my girlfriend.” At this, Natasha frowned and held up her left hand.

“Fianceé, Andrei. It’s been fianceé for six months now.” The happiness she had felt at the beginning of the six months was no longer the same as what she felt now, despite her best efforts to apologize for his behavior. 

“Fine. You know I can’t talk about my job, not even with my fianceé.” Andrei’s words caused his girlfriend to narrow her eyes at him. 

“You know, I read that people who work as princesses at Disney can’t talk about their job with their family either. Are you moonlighting as Ariel?” 

“Only if you’re moonlighting as a mafia prostitute.” Andrei’s mouth lifted into a smile, or as much of a smile as Natasha had come to expect from her fiance. 

“I’d tell you if I was a mafia prostitute. Although, I theoretically just did tell you, so maybe I am one.” She laughed, reaching across the table to take Andrei’s hand. He returned the laughter and took her hand, his eyes meeting hers.

Moments like these had become rare in their relationship. When Andrei first told her he had a new job that was stationed in Moscow, Natasha had been ecstatic. That meant he wouldn’t have to travel with the military and he wouldn’t be in danger. It meant he would be hers again, like he had before they’d gotten engaged.

In reality, it didn’t mean any of those things. All it ended up doing was taking him away from her even more and turning him into a secretive husk of the man she fell in love with. She wanted her Andrei back, and every day it seemed as though more of that Andrei was  disappearing. 

“See how nice it can be when we talk? I know how hard it is to tear yourself away from  your delicious pasta long enough to converse with your girlfriend, but it isn’t as bad as you think it is.” She teased, giving his hand a light squeeze.

“This actually is a good recipe. I have to bookmark it for the future.” It sounded more like he was speaking to himself, but Natasha would take any small semblance of conversation that she could get.

“You know, it is pretty cool getting to tell people you work for the government. Everyone wants to know what you do, and I get to act like I’m the one keeping it a secret from them.” Andrei pulled his hand away from hers in response to her words, and her smile immediately disappeared.

This was how their relationship had begun to work now; they would go from almost functional one minute to completely closed off the next. It wasn’t ideal, but there was nothing she could think to do that would fix it.

“That’s why I can’t tell you, Natasha. If I tell you, you’ll tell Sonya the next time you get tipsy with her and she’ll tell Marya the next time Marya corners her, and Marya’s one of the biggest gossips in all of Moscow even if she pretends she isn’t.”

“I wouldn’t drunk-tattle on you, Andrei. I just want to know where you go when you disappear for days at a time and refuse to pick up your phone. Never knowing when you’ll come back is stressful for me.” Natasha held her hand out in the empty space where Andrei’s had been before drawing it back towards her.

“I know how hard it is, Natasha, and I’m sorry, but that doesn’t change things. All I can tell you is that it’s a science project that has the potential to make history. We already have, actually.” 

“That’s more than you’ve told me since you started, at least. I just… you have to promise me that you’ll stay safe, Andrushka. Revolutionary science projects are usually dangerous. Can you at least promise me it isn’t anything radioactive and we won’t have Andrer-nobyl?”

“Andrer-nobyl? Is that really the best you could do?” It was clearly a way to distract her from the matter at hand, and for once, Natasha was determined to not let it work.

“Promise me, Andrei.” She looked into his eyes, noticing the way he shifted his gaze away in response. 

“My job is not dangerous, and if it ever theoretically became dangerous, we would have the threat immobilized within a second. I promise you that I will not get hurt.” He offered a brief and insincere smile, moving to stand up.

Natasha followed his lead, sighing as she pushed herself up from the table. She picked up her dish and then his own, carrying them over towards the kitchen.

“We’ll clean that up later, Natasha. Mary’s a stress-cleaner anyways, she’d love to have something to do while she stays up worrying about my dad.” Andrei followed his fianceé to the sink, taking the plates out of her hand and setting them down on the counter.

“That’s not fair to do to her, Drei. She shouldn’t have to clean up our date, she’s not a maid. Speaking of, don’t you have a live-in maid?” Natasha raised an eyebrow, moving to pick the plates up again.

“Amélie wouldn’t know how to clean a dish if her life depended on it. She’s useless, and the only person who hates her more than I do is Mary, even though Mary says she won’t use that word.” Andrei wrapped his arms around Natasha’s waist, pulling her out of the kitchen as he spoke.

“Mary hates me, and I’m sure she’d say that if you asked her. She’s always been terribly cold with me, even after we got engaged. You know, she didn’t ever sincerely congratulate me for that, by the way.”

“Mary’s had a lot on her plate for the past few years. She’s taking care of my dad all on her own--”

“Which she wouldn’t have to do if you took the occasional day off from work to help her out with him.”

“I don’t have the luxury of taking days off, and I’d only get in her way if I tried to help. She knows what she’s doing with him.”

“All I’m saying is that she hates me and I think she would be a lot more approachable if she had some time off. But I didn’t come here to argue about your sister, especially since we never get to see each other anymore.” Natasha relaxed into his arms as she spoke, a calm smile working its way onto her face.

“How about we go watch a movie, hm? My room’s far enough away from his, we won’t wake him up if we keep the volume low.” Andrei offered, waiting for an affirmative from her. As soon as he got it, he flipped her legs into his arms without any warning and made a dash for the stairs.

“Andrei!” Natasha squealed, laughter cutting through his name. This was the future she imagined for them, the one she was still praying would become a reality. She kicked at the air playfully, curling into his chest as he ran up the stairs.

“Shh! Volume down, remember?” Andrei whispered with a grin, heading towards the second set of stairs. Natasha’s kicking calmed down along the walk, steadying to a rhythmic swinging instead.

When they first got engaged, Natasha had imagined him treating their children like this someday. As time progressed and she eventually brought it up to him, he made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with children, but it was moments like these when she thought she might just be able to change his mind.

If she wasn’t so scared of ruining a seemingly perfect moment, she might have  brought it up again. And she nearly did, but once she saw his face in its rare smiling form, all 

of her words died on her tongue.

“I love you, Andrei.” A simple sentence that carried such terrible weight, accompanied by the click of his bedroom door opening. 

She saw his smile flicker, the storm between his brows appearing for just one second before being instantly neutralized. Maybe if she was a braver person, she would have commented on it, but all she wanted right now was a night without any confrontation.

He placed her onto his bed, setting himself down beside her. If he had been looking at her face, he would have seen it fall when she realized she wasn’t going to get a response. 

“How about Tangled? I know you’ve never seen that one, and I think you’ll really like it. You radiate Flynn Rider energy, you know. Maybe if you weren’t already busy as Ariel, you could be him.” She laughed, an uneasy sound compared to the earlier, genuine mirth.

“Tangled sounds like a good idea.” Andrei pressed a kiss to her temple, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He drew her close to him, his hold on her taking something along the lines of a protective nature.

Not even fifteen minutes into the movie, she was out cold in his arms. He gently rearranged her on the bed, drawing the covers up to her chin the way she liked it. 

“I love you too, Natasha.” It was barely a whisper, and met with the faintest sigh from her sleeping form. 

He turned to face the window, his hand moving down to the silver band around his finger. He fiddled with it for a while and then slipped it off, his eyes never straying from the rising moon as he did so. 

With a quiet clink, it hit the bedside table. Beside him, Natasha stirred and mumbled something in her sleep-addled state.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to get married to her. It was just that the ring symbolized a level of commitment he hadn’t quite been prepared for when he initially offered it to her, and taking it off helped him forget about the challenges ahead.

The experiment was only becoming more time-consuming as it went on, which meant his relationship with Natasha would have to be put on the back burner. Not that he hadn’t done that already.

Taking the ring off gave him some momentary reprieve from being forced to face issues like that, although he knew he would never have another moment of peace again if she ever found out he spent the majority of his days with it off.

Despite that, he made no move to put the ring back on. It sat on the small table, a forgotten promise glimmering in the pale moonlight. 

It was ironic that this had become his favorite time of day, after how much he hated nighttime when he was a child. In the depths of his memory, he saw a beautiful woman drawing the covers up and kissing his forehead as the moon rose. She would promise that she was right across the hall and they’d see each other first thing in the morning. She told him she would never let anything hurt him.

Somewhere along the way, the beautiful woman disappeared and the rising moon was the only thing Andrei had to remind him of his mother. It was nights like these, the clear ones where every single star was visible, where he knew she was still with him.

It wasn’t until the moon sunk below the horizon and the sky began to light up that he reached out for the ring again.

Not a second after it had been returned to its rightful place on his finger, he felt the weight beside him shift.

“Morning, Drei.” Her words were accompanied by a dainty yawn, her arms stretching out into the air above them.

He turned to look at her, his mouth dropping open at the sight in front of him. The sunlight illuminated her face, surrounding her in an ethereal glow. 

“You’re going to catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.” She teased, leaning down and kissing his cheek.

“Morning, Natasha.” He closed his mouth for her, pressing it into a smile instead. At least her contagious happiness made it easy for him to pretend he was content.

But perfect things were never meant to last, as he knew so well, and even in the radiance of the moment, he could sense the dark storm brewing in the distance.

  
  



End file.
